Spearing The Tide
by dreamerchaos
Summary: The new District is no better than the last. And just like the other District, a handful of prawns are induced into a near crazed state of lust and a combination of rage as a pheromone cycle kicks in. PrawnsxWikus.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Spearing the Tide (1/2)

Author: dreamerchaos

Pairing: PrawnsxWikus

Rating: MATURE

Warnings: Pron. Dub-con?

Disclaimer: Recognizeable characters owned by Peter Jackson. I make no profit by writing this.

Summary: The new District is no better than the last. And just like the other District, a handful of prawns are induced into a near crazed state of lust and a combination of rage as a pheromone cycle kicks in. The human meat sellers grow frustrated with losing business as a result of these few, so they refer to old measures from District 9 for how to deal with the amorous rutting prawns.

* * *

It is a drop of blood amidst sea of clear blue water; a sparkle of a diamond bead within the deepest cavern.

It is the breath of a wolf across the back of the sheep's neck. It stirs a terrified shudder, and prawns raise their heads up, their scavenging interrupted by this heady scent.

The warning pulses across the yard and the signal flares like a dropped bomb.

At the head of the line of prawns who wait to pay for meager scraps of raw meat, the human men curse in alarm and literally throw themselves over their wares and cut boards as two large prawns bellow and leap over the humans' counters, leaping into the midst of the prawn crowd.

The two large prawns out mass most of the others, one a deep blue gray while the other an electric yellow. They're covered with faint scars from previous scuffles, but their rippled carapaces signify the battles that they have survived over many years, making them formidable opponents to even the largest prawn awaiting their turn in line for a ration of food.

Smaller prawns scatter, ignoring the pleas and hails of the men waving their products for sale. Amidst the raised voices and clatters of disappearing prawns, the two rogues shriek and rise to their full height, flexing and spreading their arms wide as they menace the few snarling large prawns that stand around rigid with fury at their indecent display.

The humans know better than to directly interfere with this confrontation. The men can discern from the wild glaze in the two prawns' eyes, the ruddy red veins that surround large amber eyes and the rippled hackles that spike their layers of ridged carapaces that the two prawns are in the beginning of a rutting season.

One of the younger men is too slow in moving aside as one of the rutting males shrieks and charges the small crowd of prawns. The young man howls in agony as he is backhanded aside and sent crashing into a pile of sharp metal cans and rusted loops of wires.

The prawns squabble and hiss as they collide with their opponents, rolling across the ground like yowling spitting feral cats. Claws scratch and mandibles snap forward as the group tangles together. The humans scream in outrage as the rolling seething mass of fighters roll towards their stand and knock over their table and wood chop boards. Knives and various pieces of meat are knocked into the filth and dirt, the wares ground underneath their feet as the humans flee out of the way to avoid the waving curled talons and kicking limbs.

The remainder of the prawn crowd disperses in surrender, splitting into opposite directions as they flee from the rowdy yet immensely strong young competitors. The rogue pair howls their victory up towards the ash gray sky, hot on the other prawns' heels, not as easily turned away from a half-decent fight as the others.

After the dust literally settles, the men grumble and right their tables with scowls and curses. They survey the damage to their supplies and products while another man yanks the sliced whimpering young man up out of the pile of trash.

"Another season with those damn prawns thinking with what's between their legs rather than their ears," One of the older men snorts as he feebly tries to dust off the dry strips of meat that had been tossed onto the ground.

Another man spits angrily as he kicks aside the ruined table and cut boards. "We've already lost more than half of our customers after their last display. We'll be lucky to have any by the end of the week."

The older man sighs as he drops the ruined meat back onto the ground, discarding the loss. "Get the boys ready." He looks towards the shacks and mountains of trash, his faded hearing just managing to make out the escalated shrieks of the rutting pair, "Tell them to get everything ready. I'll find us our bait while they get everything set."

* * *

Wikus knows that he should be bothered by the degree of attention he receives from the men who cut up and sell fresh meat.

He's already on edge from the howls and rapidly escalating fights that mount throughout the District as the pair of prawns deal out new havoc.

Now he has to worry about contending with the intense admiring consideration from the humans.

He only dares to approach the short line of prawns that wait to buy fresh meat simply because he is starving. Without food for the last two days, Wikus is desperate. The prawn scratches up enough coins to purchase some old jerky or maybe a pound worth of pig meat if he's lucky.

He hesitates for a moment when it is his turn to approach the table and men. Carefully he clutches the gleaming handful of coins as he shuffles forward.

The older man, his skin as dry as parchment and as dark as tobacco, looks at the smaller prawn that approaches his stand. His eyes gleam with with low banked flames of keen cleverness as he smiles winningly at the shying prawn; the older man recognizes the smaller prawn by his loose blue shirt and ragged black shorts, but the main revelation that spikes his memory comes from the tale-tell rich blue ring of color around the prawn's amber eyes.

"Well, if it isn't Blue Eyes." The man purrs. Wikus' eyes skitter left and right as he notices the other men perk up, their cunning beady eyes sliding over him.

Wikus shudders and leans away prepared to step out of line and abandon the idea of purchasing food from the strange unsettling humans.

"Now don't be shy." The haggler snaps his hand forward and snags the prawn's wrist, clutching the curled hand which possesses the handful of coins, "I always notice when one of my customers returns after a long time away."

"I was here last week." Wikus suppresses a faint shudder at the human's oily voice.

"But you haven't been here recently to see our new stock!" The man wheedles with an audacious smile.

Wikus' gaze flickers over the table. Noting the pink and white tangled guts, strings of skin and glistening sliced piles of wet meat, "…It looks the same to me."

But the human is insistent. Far from deterred, he circles around the table while still clutching the prawn's wrist, sweeping up a rare chunk of lamb meat as he walks backwards with Wikus' wrist still held tight. Wikus can't help but to follow unless he's willing to rip his hand away and risk contending with the human's temper and the ire of his neighboring friends.

The older man waves the tempting morsel of meat in front of the hungry prawn, Wikus unconsciously stretching forward, antennas waving in the air.

"The best products are still in the back of our truck." Like a fish and a lure he patiently bobs and weaves the meat in front of the prawn.

Wikus dithers, bothered by the easy promise of food from the human who was known to bellow his lungs hoarse and colorfully curse any prawn who was late on paying for meat, "…I…I don't think.." He stutters and faltered.

"I _insist_." Wikus chokes on a whimper at the low growl from the man. He knows he can quite easily knock the human aside and run, but he is too reluctant to harm another entity. Too lacking in confidence to manage that feat…Too afraid that he wouldn't be strong or good enough to fend anyone off.

"Just listen to me and do what I say, Blue Eyes, and I won't lead you astray." The man confidently offers the meat to the short prawn. Wikus shakily accepts the chunk of lamb with one hand, but when he offers the coins to the human, the man waves it aside. "Keep it. It's my treat."

While Wikus shuffles to the music of the man's voice while he stuffs the small coins into the loose pocket of his shorts, the human piper leading his chosen away from the safer territory of the District sector that Wikus is so familiar with, the prawn doesn't notice the other humans who shadow them.

* * *

Wikus' arms are nervously crossed against his chest as he follows the human while they approach the old beaten up brown truck. The prawn inches forward, his anxiety spiking as he notes the abandoned shack sitting dark and quiet on the opposite side of the parked truck.

Something…something is wrong. A low warble of a moan escapes the prawn and he freezes in place, refusing to budge another step forward.

"I..I changed my mind." Wikus wrings his hands together, "I'll pay you for the lamb, I promise. But I…really want to go home now-"

The men who have been following them are suddenly circling the uncertain prawn, brandishing pipes and wooden boards. They don't plan to actually harm the prawn since they need him intact, but the show of force and aggression does spur a positive reaction.

The men bellow and flash their weapons, and initially the pitched voices startle Wikus more than the weapons. The prawn squeals and leaps away from them, backing away in the direction that they want him to go.

"Calm down, Blue Eyes!" The older man shows his hands in surrender to try and calm the petrified prawn, one of the men circling around the bowed, terrified prawn and throws open the door of the shack, "Just relax. Be a good prawn and get into the shack now." He coos.

Wikus whips his head left and right in refusal as he snarls half-heartedly towards the shouting men with their waving weapons. "N-No!"

One of the men darts towards him from the left and raises his weapon as if to strike.

Wikus startles and flinches back but is then quick to lunge forward prepared to strike.

But he freezes before his claws can touch the human, rearing back in shock at his brazenness to raise a hand against another person. His claws curl uselessly as he shudders in revulsion.

Wikus' hesitation is immediately set upon by the horde of humans. They rush him all at once, push and shove him back, grappling with his long arms as Wikus tries to jerk free and run. Wikus curls and struggles confused when one of the men rips of a shred of his shirt but otherwise leaves him unharmed.

"Gently!" The older man cautions as the men cram the prawn through the doorway while they bar the prawn with their pipes and planks, the hasty barrier keeping him from escape and flight.

Together they shove the prawn completely into the shack, the hard push sending Wikus to the thick dirt floor.

The men slam the door of the shack shut and several men wrestle to lift and shove a heavy piece of timber through a rough slot on either side of the metal door, dropping the beam into place and barring the smaller prawn inside.

"All right!" The leader cuts his hand through the air commanding the men to disperse, accepting the torn piece of fabric that one of the young men liberated off the prawn, "Now let's go find those two bastards and get this mess sorted out."

* * *

Wikus bangs the palms of his hands fruitlessly against the barred door. He whimpers as the barrier refuses to budge, skittering backwards and scales the walls in his panic to search and find a sliver of an escape. Wikus scratches at the locked window, swiping away the slime of mold and caked dust.

He can't see all too well through the thick grime, but after a moment squinting his eyes through the dusty film he can make out the shadows of the men returning after half an hour after he has been locked inside the shack.

The prawn grows further alarmed by the much larger, taller pair of shadows who follow the humans as they return.

In a panic Wikus scrambles upside down onto the ceiling, helplessly trying to claw his way out of his cage, whimpering with alarm as the familiar pair of rogue prawns all the while are being coaxed by the humans towards the smaller prawn's prison.

* * *

"That's it…" The human shakes the piece of cloth heavily scented with the smaller prawn's distinguishing musk, "Come on, big boy. Come on…" He swiftly moves with a hop and a skip, jumping back to avoid the snap of sharp mandibles and beak.

The large blue-gray prawn snaps at the teasing, waving fabric. The leaner electric yellow one curls his talons as he stalks after the human, crawling on all four limbs alongside his snarling partner.

"Get the door!" The man shouts as he dances just outside of the prawns' raking talons and snarled mandibles, "I can barely hold them off!" His voice whines with panic as he narrowly avoids losing his hand to the pair of prawns.

The other men don't have the opportunity to scramble and grunt and heave at the huge timber blocking the door of the shack. The two prawns suddenly raise their chins in unison, antennas quirked with peaked interest. Their heads bob while they ravenously scent the air, tasting the scent molecules soaked throughout the immediate area surrounding the barred shack.

The humans fall and scramble out of their way as the prawns attack the huge piece of timber; the pair quite easily hoists the barrier over their heads and casually tosses it aside. The piece of lumber spins and crashes into the rear of the parked truck, but the prawns ignore the squeal of metal as the truck is just about knocked over by the crushing impact.

"Shut the door! Shut the door!" One of the men begs as the prawns disappear into the gloom of the shed.

Two braver men dart forward and slam the door shut while the rest of the men begin throwing an alternating mix of heavy bags of trash and old metal equipment to bar the door from being open too easily from the inside.

It takes several seconds for their success to finally sink in. The men gasp for air after narrowly avoiding having their limbs severed and their blood splashed along the ground, winded from hunting down the rogue pair and then running in haste back to the shed while waving their lure in the air to guide the rutting pair towards the target.

"Al…all right…" their leader wheezes, leaning over with his hands on his knees, "Now we leave the rest to be sorted out on its own. Let's get out of here before they change their mind and get pissed off again and decide to try to make a go at eating us."


	2. Chapter 2

Title: Spearing the Tide (2/2)

Author: dreamerchaos

Pairing: PrawnsxWikus

Rating: NC-17

Warnings: Pron. Dub-con?

Summary: The new District is no better than the last. And just like the other District, a handful of prawns are induced into a near crazed state of lust and a combination of rage as a pheromone cycle kicks in. The human meat sellers grow frustrated with losing business as a result of these few, so they refer to old measures from District 9 for how to deal with the amorous rutting prawns.

* * *

Wikus tries to blend in with the darkest deepest corner of the unlit room when his sensitive hearing catches the sound of grunts and the heave of the barrier tossed from the front of the door. He scrambles away from the short halo of light that washes the floor and melts into the shadows as the prawns enter the shack while the door is slammed shut behind them.

His efforts prove to be a failure when the two prawns only take several seconds to pinpoint the smaller prawn by scent and they swiftly crawl in his direction.

"Get away!" Wikus slaps away their hands and makes a desperate dive for the door even though he knows it is useless but perhaps fate would bare a rare smile upon him and turn out to be kind.

A heavy body collides with his back and shoves the smaller prawn to the ground.

The electric yellow prawn snarls with conquest, the smaller pinned prawn wriggles and struggles underneath him.

"No!" Wikus can't raise his hands to claw at the prawn's face since the other prawn snags and pins his wrists.

"Fook you!" Wikus gasps, cringes as the yellow prawn nuzzles underneath his chin. In between Wikus' legs he can feel the warm dampness spread as the prawn rocks against him, proboscis eagerly dipping outward and nudges between Wikus' thighs.

To both Wikus and the electric yellow prawn's surprise a large blue-gray hand snags the side of the yellow prawn's head.

"No." The darker prawn growls as the yellow whines from the curl of talons pressed against his carapace, "We do this together. _Three_. Not two. Not one." There is a heady shine in his amber eyes, but the darkest of the pair appears to maintain the most control over his mental faculties.

"What—" Wikus gulps as he is dragged up to sit in the darker prawn's lap, "Wait! Is…shouldn't we discuss this first?" He curls self-consciously as the yellow prawn slides downward, large hands glide down and split his legs open. Dark clawed hands flex across his chest and abdomen, drag in between the very faint dips and seams. Wikus keens when the yellow prawn rips apart his shorts due to his excitement and feverishly pawing hands, the smaller prawn arching against the dark one's chest in a failed effort to try and scuttle away from the increasingly invasive massage of claws and tentacles.

The dark blue prawn growls against the side of his neck. Wikus quakes as the dancing tips of numerous tentacles waltz across the overlapped carapace of his nape and throat.

Wikus wiggles and shifts restlessly as the yellow prawn slides lower. The smaller prawn 'eeps' and tries to clap his thighs shut, but the other prawn's shoulders are a wide barrier and his knees merely clench against the yellow one's biceps.

Wikus hisses when the darker prawn slips his hands against the soft inside of his thighs and split him open wider to allow the yellow prawn easy access. Wikus jerks his head left and right in silent denial whilst the yellow prawn purrs, his breath gently dusts the slim tight opening nestled in the center of soft prawn flesh.

Wikus squeals as the tips of the prawn's tentacles nip and nudge at the mouth of his entrance. The yellow prawn chases the scent molecules and damp flavor when Wikus tries to shudder away. The larger prawn between his legs growls, mandibles curled with concentration as a quarter length of his tentacles stretch forward and pierce the smaller prawn's opening.

The smaller prawn judders at the probe and sensation of the handful of tentacles lapping within the mouth of his entrance.

He squeaked sharply at the shocking curl of the prawn's long tongue, the appendage reminds Wikus of a curled whip tongue that a butterfly will use to lap up nectar. Wikus whines as the tongue uncurled and stretched to its full length, piercing him so deep that Wikus dreads he can soon taste it within the depths of his throat.

The dark blue prawn growls in ardor, devotedly observant of the thrust and pull of the yellow prawn's tongue. He rocks his hips against Wikus' posterior, his fingers spreading apart just so that the tips of his claws can curl into the tight wetness of Wikus' entrance alongside the yellow prawn's tongue.

Wikus moans at the additional stimulation and pressure that pushes inside. He pants sharply, head dropping back against the prawn's shoulder, the ceiling above slowly growing murky with the thick heat and a sweeping rouge of throbbing tension that slowly floods his body.

'_Wh-What's wrong with me?' _He knows that rationally he should make an effort to struggle and resist but there is a sudden yearning to relax and lie supine. Wikus tries to shift and raise his head, but the effort is too much.

Wikus jolts and rocks his hips in answer to the thrust of fingers and curled tongue. And that is when realization smacks him alongside the face.

The rogues were in a rutting season. Could they be releasing specified pheromones that would relax or sedate their partner? And could it be?-Wikus drops his eyes down to the prawn nestled between his legs—could their saliva secret an agent that would assist in pacifying any resistance?

Wikus' knees rattle when the yellow prawn retracts his tongue, damp mandibles and tentacles weaving as he slips upward, hunching against Wikus' chest as he pushes forward. Wikus' hands claw at the prawn's back and shoulders, face clenched against the slow sharp push as the prawn presses into him.

Carapace rattles and grinds their hard exoskeleton bump and scratch. The yellow prawn purrs, shudders at the sting of Wikus' small claw tips snagging the edges of his carapace ridges.

The darker prawn slides his hands around to cup the yellow prawn's lower back. He guides the prawn to slow down and concentrate his thrusts less the yellow prawn comes too soon.

Wikus can feel his smaller binary hands clench and wind with the yellow prawn's; the yawning stretch of an unseen black void that holds him beyond the precipice is slowly shrinking as the jolting pleasure pools and rises like magma. Against his back Wikus can feel the sharp bite and short nips of the darker prawn, the thick wet shaft probes incessantly against his posterior and lower back as the large prawn growls and shifts about in frustration.

Suddenly the electric yellow prawn squeals and jerks and Wikus gasps as the thick hot flood of wetness that dashes against his insides, the shivering walls bathed with the viscous black fluid. The yellow prawn rattles and jerks, pumping sporadically into the smaller prawn, chasing the last dregs of friction that leaves him weak at the knees.

The darker prawn finally loses patience with waiting. Both Wikus and the yellow prawn yelp when they are shoved, the yellow prawn torn from Wikus and falling onto his back. Wikus sprawls forward across the stunned prawn's chest, hands curled between their chests.

The smaller prawn yips in surprise when the large body slides smoothly upon his extended back, large hands weld onto his hips and the dark prawn jerks the smaller prawn's hips and spreads his thighs. Wikus moans and drops his head between his shoulders when he is pierced a second time, the sensitized tunnel quaking, clenched around the prawn's shaft. Wikus whines and shudders, feeling as if a spear is sliding into him and splitting him open.

The yellow prawn growls, wraps his arms around Wikus' shoulders and begins to thrust upward, the smaller prawn settled between his long legs. The prawn purrs and nuzzles Wikus' chin, murmuring with pleasure when Wikus helplessly shudders as his shaft slips outside its protective sheath. Their shafts brush and parry, Wikus clinging to the yellow prawn as the dark fluid beads along their hips and paints strips across their stomachs.

The darker prawn's significant weight advantage pushes Wikus flat against the yellow prawn, the smaller prawn's face buried in the brighter carapace of the prawn's neck. The thrusts are long, hard, and slow. Wikus pants and gulps for air, barely able to catch his breath before another thrust shoves him off-balance literally and figuratively.

Since it is his second round it takes far less time for Wikus to gasp a final time as he comes, hips and thighs trembling as fluid spills from his shaft, joining the growing pool of black tar seed as the electric yellow prawn moans and comes a second time.

Wikus' hard exoskeleton does not allow him the human inconvenience of flushing a terrible shade of crimson when the darker prawn snarls and floods his insides. The smaller prawn wriggles and moans softly as his tunnel and chamber overflow, the dark fluid smearing the inside of his thighs as the excess flow seeps outward, tracking down his lower body.

The smaller prawn moans again, this time in slight discomfort as the darker prawn collapses on top of him, pinning him between the two prawns. Wikus pants shakily, exhausted from the long, rough, but sinfully divine row. He doesn't know whether he can claim that their prawns' pheromones had waylaid his common sense and left him to their mercy, or if his solitary isolation made him prone and wanting for companionship.

Regardless, he is spent and caked with fluids, and all he wants to do is retreat back to his shack and nest and try to find a single clean wet cloth in order to get clean. The fluids are already drying upon his carapace, the obsidian fluid marking his activities, a larger banner for any prawns within a mile radius.

When Wikus tries to shimmy free from the cage of tangled arms, the thicker limbs tighten and curl around him. The darker prawn purrs and rubs and grinds against him.

Wikus blinks then jerks in shock as another wave of haziness and heat floods him.

He isn't terribly surprised when he is rolled onto his back―much to the yellow prawn's discontent since he is again pinned to the floor―But Wikus is otherwise distracted when the darker prawn shuffles forward and confidently slips in between Wikus' thighs.

* * *

Wikus would hide underneath his nest of soft blankets if it weren't for his red carapace guest, the other prawn patiently shoves Wikus onto his back while scrapping away the last flakes of black fluid from the prawn's stomach and thighs.

"You should not feel embarrassed." The prawn growls while he idly flicks away the curled flakes from his claws. Wikus' appointed guardian taking whatever measures to wash and clean the sullen younger prawn.

"Everyone in the neighborhood can smell them on me!" Wikus moans, his antennas curled over his forehead in shame.

The red prawn chuffs with laughter, "So they know that you had a good hard fuck. I'm sure it was memorable." The prawn chortles with further laughter and Wikus' aghast, mortified expression, "I too have had to endure the affections of prawns that are in a rut. It is certainly annoying and sometimes overwhelming, but you are left with a pleasurable ache to last you several days."

"Don't remind me." Wikus clicks, twining his legs together as he hisses and burrows into his nest, "I don't think I can move for an entire week."

"Poor thing," The red prawn purrs. He pats Wikus' back in conciliation.

Wikus growls half-heartedly.

"Well, at the very least you made the meat sellers happy." The prawn shrugs, "You're guaranteed to get a discount on their products. I even heard that the old human was asking about you to make sure that you hadn't been injured by the two rogues."

Wikus rolls his eyes but says nothing else.

The red prawn gracefully rises onto his feet. "Well, I will return home now that you are clean and otherwise fine save for exhaustion and a slight twinge of pain. And don't give me that look. You should be thanking me. I'm the one who has to return to my shack where my roommate will literally climb up the walls when he smells you on me. Those rogues' pheromones and your own musk will cost me an entire night worth of sleep fending off an amorous roommate."

Wikus can't say that his heart bleeds with sympathy, but he does bury a faint smile of amusement as the other prawn continues to mutter under his breath as he leaves the shack.

* * *

Another three months later, the meat sellers are sullen and annoyed. Another prawn is within a rut season, this rogue affecting the humans' sells of meat and scaring away customers.

The old man scowls as he slaps a piece of cow flesh into a customer's hand, the weathered human chomping on a stub of a cigar as he contemplates his loss of profit.

The next prawn in line catches his attention, and the human's wrinkled face splits with a sunny smile of yellow teeth and narrow eyes.

"Ahhhh…if it isn't pretty Blue Eyes," The human greets his customer.

Wikus shuffles forward, eyes scanning the selection of meat for sell.

The old man waves his hand back and forwards the snag the prawn's attention, "Listen, Blue Eyes. I have a problem that I think you can help me fix. I've got a big, handsome black prawn who I know would be **very** happy to meet you." At the prawn's narrowed glance and uninterested air, the human wheedles, "You know that I take good care of my customers. I'll give you a whole lamb if you help me again." He barters shamelessly.

"…" The small prawn simply _looks _at him for a long while. Wikus' binary hands curl and unfurl before settling down. His eyes lock with the human's. "One whole lamb for me and one lamb for each of my neighbors."

'_You little bastard-' _But the human smiles toothily and chuckles. "You're a smart bugger, huh? Certainly know that I'm in a corner and when and what to barter. All right, Blue Eyes. You got yourself a deal."

Wikus patiently follows the old human as he is led away from the line. At the rear of the long line, his red prawn neighbor catches his eye, the prawn's mandibles twitch with humor as he glances knowingly at the small prawn.

Wikus shrugs. If he has a choice in the entire matter, then he'd better make good use of the old man's need for him. Sure, Wikus didn't feel all that different from one of Mbube's whores, but at least he was guaranteed a full belly and a long solid session with a partner who didn't share the humans' tendencies to slap around or degrade a prostitute that they had just purchased. For being such a hideous species in the humans' eyes, prawns were far more gentle and less abusive then their fleshy, small native neighbors.

The smaller prawn scents the air, catching the heavy whiff of musk at least half a mile away. He can hear the men shout, followed by the roar of a frustrated large prawn. Wikus can't help but to shiver with an altercation of trepidation and desire as he follows the old man to meet the recent prawn who has been causing the humans so much trouble.

END

Author's Note: I feel so dirty…(Yum..) Wikus, you shameless wanton thing. Just wait till Christopher returns and you have to explain your harem of prawns that you have lured in with your charms.


End file.
